I am feeling down…fallen…though looking up…as if for an outstretched hand to pull me back up onto the ledge where I have been living for so long now. I feel like the Coyote when he falls so far down into the pit that the television viewer can no longer see or hear his plummet…only the tiny cloud that is offered up as proof that there really was a destination…an ending…a hard one.
I spent the evening on hard, cold, aluminum stadium seats-camera at the ready-watching my son stand on the sidelines. If I found it heart-wrenching I can only imagine how my son must have felt. I hate to sound like a typical parent, but my son is extremely focused and willing to learn. He gives his all during every practice. Just yesterday he was the first one off the field-because he was running for the locker room—and he ran all the way—even when the coaches weren’t watching—even after he passed through the fence surrounding the field. He is coachable and positive…he is craving all things football right now. The frustrating part of it was that we were ahead by almost 2 touchdowns and still the coaches did not substitute players in. When my son finally got to run out on the field it was but for a single play—and the action was no where near him—all of this in the final 3 minutes of the ballgame.
I pray that his spirit does not get broken. While he is, undoubtedly upset, he still loves the game and is already talking of next year. I also feel badly for my husband because I know how his own heart must ache for his son…especially because he knows first hand what it feels like to play the game.
And so, I sat and watched and cheered and prayed for a boy who didn’t play.
Meanwhile there is my daughter…tonight found us able to sneak into the choir room for a behind the scenes preview of her upcoming winter concert. We were able to listen to all of the songs she has been working on (though only snippets). Their voices were lovely and my daughter participated 100%---but whenever we maintained eye contact it was only a stare…not a glimmer of recognition or delight…no show of emotions.
And so, I sat and watched and cheered and prayed for a girl who sang…but my heart ached just the same.
When the choir sang Silent Night in German my eyes began to well up. I was immediately taken back to a midnight Christmas Eve service at church…the year I was 6 months pregnant with my daughter. I wore a crushed red velvet blouse and I shakily held my candle while tears streamed down my cheeks. It is often said that silence speaks volumes...sometimes it is the things not said that impact us the most.
I spent the evening on hard, cold, aluminum stadium seats-camera at the ready-watching my son stand on the sidelines. If I found it heart-wrenching I can only imagine how my son must have felt. I hate to sound like a typical parent, but my son is extremely focused and willing to learn. He gives his all during every practice. Just yesterday he was the first one off the field-because he was running for the locker room—and he ran all the way—even when the coaches weren’t watching—even after he passed through the fence surrounding the field. He is coachable and positive…he is craving all things football right now. The frustrating part of it was that we were ahead by almost 2 touchdowns and still the coaches did not substitute players in. When my son finally got to run out on the field it was but for a single play—and the action was no where near him—all of this in the final 3 minutes of the ballgame.
I pray that his spirit does not get broken. While he is, undoubtedly upset, he still loves the game and is already talking of next year. I also feel badly for my husband because I know how his own heart must ache for his son…especially because he knows first hand what it feels like to play the game.
And so, I sat and watched and cheered and prayed for a boy who didn’t play.
Meanwhile there is my daughter…tonight found us able to sneak into the choir room for a behind the scenes preview of her upcoming winter concert. We were able to listen to all of the songs she has been working on (though only snippets). Their voices were lovely and my daughter participated 100%---but whenever we maintained eye contact it was only a stare…not a glimmer of recognition or delight…no show of emotions.
And so, I sat and watched and cheered and prayed for a girl who sang…but my heart ached just the same.
When the choir sang Silent Night in German my eyes began to well up. I was immediately taken back to a midnight Christmas Eve service at church…the year I was 6 months pregnant with my daughter. I wore a crushed red velvet blouse and I shakily held my candle while tears streamed down my cheeks. It is often said that silence speaks volumes...sometimes it is the things not said that impact us the most.
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